The Touch, The Fire, and The Sound
by TimetravelingArchaeologist
Summary: The object in her hand came into view, and she held it out, waiting for him to take it. He snatched it from her and glanced down. It was a bottle, clear with a thick soft yellow liquid and a purple flip top screw cap. Daryl turned it in his hands. 'Aromatherapy Massage Oil' was written across the label. 'Ginger, Arnica & Cayenne Deep Tissue Massage, Warm & Soothe' appeared in small


A/N: As always, I won nothing of TWD and my work is unapologetically unbetaed.

Written for TheCarylDaily Valentine's Day Naughty & Nice Fic-a-thon on tumblr.

Prompts: Nice: Glimpse Naughty: Massage Oil

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The first time it happened it wasn't intentional. In fact, it wasn't intentional the first several times. But you didn't live in each other's pockets for months on end and not see glimpses of things you weren't supposed to. He was all too well aware of so many intimate things about his survivor family.

But they had more room to spread out now that they had found the prison. Not that there was much more privacy, least not since the Woodbury people moved in. They covered the cell doors of course, but there was only so much privacy a sheet or a blanket allowed. Sound traveled, silhouettes could be seen cast on the makeshift doors from the lanterns they used in the dark, and sometimes… sometimes you caught a glimpse of skin when you passed by the edge of someone's cell. He made sure to steer clear of the cell that Glenn and Maggie had taken up residence it. He saw enough of that shit on the road and when he went out to take over watch in the guard tower they seemed to think was their own personal place.

For the most part Daryl wasn't phased. For all the privacy that he liked to maintain, he'd grown well used to the lack of it even long before the world went to shit. He had after all lived with Merle. Skin wasn't something he much looked at then or now, despite the efforts of more than one woman, and a few men, not that he wasn't trying his damndest to put that out of his mind.

Wasn't a priority anyhow, there were a hell of a lot more pressing things in the world than looking at tits and having his bed warmed at night. Though he had no doubt that if his brother were still breathing he'd have argued that.

So no, it wasn't intentional, but as he caught a glimpse of Carol's freshly showered form slipping a clean tank top over her head, but he wasn't sorry either.

He wasn't sure when he'd started to notice Carol, somewhere near the moment he watched as she buried the pickax in her bastard husbands skull a half dozen times, or maybe it was when he saw how much she loved her kid. It stood out, maybe because his own momma never gave a damn about him like that. Didn't much matter, he was noticing her now.

A clatter in the cell block rang out and he turned quickly, not wanting to be caught. Whatever it was he'd been headed to do had been forgotten.

.

"That bad?"

Daryl frowned and looked up from where he had been putting a bottle of water into his bag, to see Maggie and Carol standing off to the side. Carol nodded and placed a hand on her back, murmuring quieter than Maggie had been. He almost smiled at that. Woman was quiet in general, something he appreciated. Though he was sure her lack of noise was learned long before the world sent to shit. Either way it was an asset in this new one.

Maggie nodded, giving Carol a sympathetic smile. "I'll see what I can do while we're in there."

Item requests were common but usually went unanswered. It was no longer a matter of a simple grocery list, though some items were easier to find than others if it wasn't related to everyday survival. He thought nothing of Carol's request really, she was often the one who would mention to whomever was going on a run, what was needed. He zipped his pack and slung it over his shoulder, nodding to her as he passed them by and headed out the door.

.

It wasn't completely quiet in the town they hit that day, several walkers had to be taken down, but nothing they couldn't handle. A regular milk run, but the town itself was pretty picked over. The few smaller stores they cleared held a variety of useless things, though a few prizes were claimed and packed into the back of the car.

Daryl hadn't even thought of Carol's request again until later that evening when they were back in the safety of the prison and his evening watch had ended. It had become Daryl's unspoken habit to check in on Carol when he returned from watch, a hunt, or a run. His need to catch a glimpse of her, make sure she was still there, overriding his need for solace.

Maggie was standing at Carol's cell door. Whatever it was that Maggie had handed her seemed to have been a source of slight amusement, and Carol blushed pink and snorted. "Sorry, best I could do for now."

Carol smiled warmly, "Thanks sweetie."

Maggie started to move away from the doorway when she spotted Daryl. "But I'm sure Daryl could give you a hand," she added as if she hadn't seen him. Carol shot Maggie a warning glare, but the blush deepened. He wondered when he even started to notice her blushing. Maggie simply shrugged and apologized again. "Sorry Carol." Daryl couldn't help but think that whatever it was about she didn't seem sorry at all.

He watched Maggie retreat as he came to a stop at Carol's cell door, stopping and refocusing his attention on the woman in front of him, leaning against the bars. Carol's gaze shifted away from the catwalk Maggie had disappeared down and locked onto him. "You have watch?" she asked. He shook his head, "Naw, just finished mine, figured I'd turn in early. What'd ya need help with?"

"Nothin' Daryl, I'm fine." She shifted, tucking whatever was in her hand, out of sight.

He gave her a puzzled look. "Maggie seemed to think ya did."

"She was teasin' me is all."

Daryl wondered how much of that was true, Carol was usually the last one to ask for help, at least not when it came to herself. He understood her aversion, asking for help felt like weakness. But he hated that she thought that she was. She was a hell of a lot tougher than any woman he knew, even if she didn't know it.

"Just ask," he prompted, his tone low and gentle, but firm.

Carol arched an eyebrow and glanced at him with a smirk. Shit, he knew that look, it was the look she gave him just before she said something suggestive. He wasn't disappointed. The object in her hand came into view, and she held it out, waiting for him to take it. He snatched it from her and glanced down. It was a bottle, clear with a thick soft yellow liquid and a purple flip top screw cap. Daryl turned it in his hands. 'Aromatherapy Massage Oil' was written across the label. 'Ginger, Arnica & Cayenne Deep Tissue Massage, Warm & Soothe' appeared in smaller font just underneath that. It suddenly occurred to him what exactly Maggie had been talking about. He had to fight the urge to turn red and leave.

"You're welcome to give me a hand," she teased. "Could be fun."  
She took a little too much joy in teasing him like that, not that he really minded. He'd had his share of flirting women, but with Carol it was different. Not like the women who threw themselves at him in the past, sure things, but didn't exactly seem appealing sober and in the light of day. It wasn't about getting what she wanted from someone, nothing she ever did was.

He knew she expected him to make an excuse to leave, but he couldn't help but think it had to be more than just that. She often deflected with jokes. So instead, he shrugged.

"Alright."

She must not have been expecting that because her eyes went wide for a split second before she started to explain. "I pulled a muscle trying to move a few things in the library, asked Maggie to see if she couldn't find something for the pain. I know we can't really spare the anti inflammatories for just anything, thought some kind of pain cream might be nice. Guess they were all out."

" Musta been." Annoyance seeped into Daryl's voice and he made a face of displeasure."You do too much, outta leave some of that shit for someone else to do." He hated seeing her do so much, but then again they all did too much. Wasn't a hell of a lot of choices. Too many of their numbers were old or just kids.

Carol shrugged, mirroring his earlier action, wincing slightly as she did. "Well, too late now."

Daryl took a step forward so that he was inside the cell, the little bottle gripped tightly in his hand.  
She was right, too late now. But he could do this at least, help her, lessen whatever pain she had now. "Guessin' you might just be needin' that hand after all." He suddenly found himself hoping that she wouldn't protest and ask someone else, but he wasn't in the mood to examine why, like everything else about their relationship, he chose to just accept it. Lately it wasn't doing him any good to argue with himself anyhow.

She looked like she might be about to say something, but she must have changed her mind because she turned, dropping the blanket that was mounted across the entrance, and moved back into the cell. "Okay."

He was already sitting down on the edge of the bottom bunk by the time she spoke, and he could see that tiny bit of hesitation on her face in the dim light from the little lantern she had turned on.  
"Ain't got all night, c'mon."

He watched as she lowered herself to the mattress next to him and turned so that her back faced him. "I appreciate it, the whole right side of my back is killin' me." He grunted in acknowledgement, knowing she didn't expect a lot of words, thankful for it because he didn't have many in situations like these anyway. They had never really needed many.

She shifted and he busied himself with opening the little cap on the bottle. There was plenty of noise coming from the cellblock, but inside the cell the silence was deafening as he scraped open the little foil tab off the top of the bottle with a ragged thumbnail. Her breathing was quiet, but the moment he laid a hand on her shoulder it caught.

He pulled his hand back instantly. "I hurt you?" he asked, voice filled with concern.

"No, I think the table did that."

She was using the humor again and he wondered if she was being honest.  
He upturned the oil into his palm, spilling a tiny dime sized pool into it. It was spicy and filled the air with it's scent the moment he rubbed it between his hands so it wouldn't drip everywhere.

She inched her faded red shirt upwards to expose the small of her back and his hands immediately went to work. She tensed briefly but quickly relaxed and allowed him to work.  
His hands inched higher, and then there it was. A moan, so low he wasn't sure if he imagined it or not. He pressed his fingers in deeper into her skin, working the muscles under her skin harder. She moaned again, louder, and then sighed like she'd just- No, he wasn't sure he wanted to think of that now. He could feel something stirring that he hadn't allowed himself to fully give into before. But fuck… The noises she was making weren't something he'd been prepared for.

Hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd had his hands on a woman like this. Ever? Probably not, unless he counted that first night at the prison when he'd taken watch atop the overturned bus by the gate.

He continued kneading the skin beneath his hands, not deep, but enough so that she wasn't nearly as tense. Remembering she'd complained about the whole right side, his hands slid higher until he could see the clasp of her bra. He hesitated, too long apparently, because the next thing he knew she'd pulled her shirt up over her head to expose her whole back, though kept it in place on her arms, clutching it to her chest as she arched forward a little.

He could see the sheen of oil on her pale skin, and the curve of her spine. It was all the invitation he needed. His hands naturally came up to brush the newly exposed skin and he watched her shiver before he moved his hands to her shoulder to knead both it and the side of her neck. He had no doubt that talking now would break whatever spell had fallen over them, fuck up whatever delicate balance that currently was this whole thing. She seemed to agree because she didn't speak, just reached to unclasp the bra behind her, making no move to fully remove it.

Instantly he was hard and he cursed himself. Here she was trusting him to help her when she needed it and he was acting like his fucking brother. Alright maybe not, he doubted Merle would have come in here with good intentions in the first place. His hands felt rough on such soft skin. Her back wasn't smooth and flawless, but it was softer than his hands by a fucking mile. He stopped to pick up the little bottle of oil again. His hands were calloused but the oil helped, he hadn't poured much out to begin with.

He returned his hands to her back, but he must have pushed too hard because she tilted too far forward. She caught herself with one hand before she adjusted, flattening to her stomach, arms out to the sides. He might have apologized, but the way she looked was far too distracting. Instead he slid his hands back over her whole back, his hands making her small frame seem smaller.

He wasn't sure when the pressure he was using changed. One moment he had been pressing his thumbs into her spine and the next his hands had ghosted over her sides as she sighed. Without thought, he moved his hands higher until one was brushing the side of one breast. She gasped and he pulled his hand back, cursing himself for it. She deserved better than that. He almost expected her to turn and glare at him, disappointed with his actions.

He was half standing to leave when her hand shot out to grab his, stopping him in his tracks. She had turned, half sitting up now, facing him. Stormy blue eyes locked to paler ones and he watched her lick her lips, his own suddenly feeling dry. He could see it in her eyes, the want. He wasn't really sure for a moment what it was he wanted, just knew that she was at the top of the list right now.

"Daryl, wait. Stay, please." Her plea was husky, but so sure of what she wanted.

He allowed her to tug him down to her, and before he had even decided what the hell he was doing, he was kissing her. Not a chaste kiss by any means. All teeth and tongues and pent up desire he hadn't ever given serious consideration to before. He didn't do touch, but something about the last year of knowing Carol had shot that clear to hell. Touch was all he could think about now. Him touching her, her hands on him. Something she was apparently in agreement with. She pushed the vest off his shoulders, he could feel the weight of it gone from him, but he couldn't hear it hit the floor over the sound rushing through his veins.

She shrugged out of the shirt and the bra, and he allowed her unbutton his shirt, sending it fluttering to join the leather vest on the floor. Her hands explored the hard muscle of his chest, no longer an ounce of softness from his previous life. He caught her neck with his teeth as she moved her hands to his waistband, a warning. He let go and lowered her back onto the bunk. His cock ached to be release, threatening to ignore everything else. He didn't know how long he'd last, but he be damned if it was going to end while she was still dressed and untouched.

He looked at her laid out on the bed, half dressed and beckoning him. Whoever looked at Carol and didn't see a complete fucking goddess was a damned fool. She was a vision, hair curled in every direction, eyes blue flames and just as heated, and so much god damned skin on display he couldn't think straight.

He flicked open the button to her pants, dragging the zipper down and instantly sliding his hand inside, past her panties.. His fingers skated over the damp curls and into a pool of slick wet folds. Fuck, she was soaked. Wetter than any woman he'd ever fucked. Carol gasped again and he was suddenly aware that he'd still had the spiced oil on his hands. He might have pulled away if she hadn't chosen that moment to clamp down on his hand, locking him in place as if she were afraid he'd take it away.

He twisted his fingers upwards until they found her clit. He could feel her mouth on his shoulder, but she was suddenly so silent. He almost felt bereft without the mewling and gasping little noises she'd been making earlier. But silent was better, didn't nobody need to know what they were doing. Plenty of other things to listen in on and gawk at without adding it to.

Her hands gripped his biceps and her hips surged up and off the bed. He wondered when the last time she'd been touched like this had been, she was so responsive and he wasn't exactly a porn star. He moved his hand again, his mouth finding hers and swallowing the silent gasps of pleasure, teeth clicking together in a messy wet kiss.

She ground her ass down into the mattress and rolled her hips, clamping down hard again with a gasp as another surge of wetness slicked her thighs. His fingers slid too easily over her clit and lower to her entrance. He hadn't thought she could get any wetter. He slid one finger in easily, marveling at the way she was both slick and tight around the digit. His cock throbbed painfully and a few strokes into her was all he could take before he tore his hand away from her to fumble with his boots and jeans. She made quick work of her own, and yanked him back the moment his jeans hit the floor of the cell. He ducked his head, narrowly missing the top of the bunk. He couldn't help but chuckle before his mouth found new places to explore. He'd never been the sort to explore a woman like he wanted to explore her. Sex had always been perfunctory, but Daryl couldn't fathom using this woman like that. She was worth far more than that. His mouth found her previously neglected breasts, teeth gently scraping over the hardened peaks before soothing them with his tongue. The soft flesh was pink from the burn of his facial hair on her skin, but he didn't stop.

She reached for him, grasping his cock,her legs widening to cradle him, and he bit down harder than he meant to. She moaned out loud this time, though to his surprise it wasn't one of pain. He let go of her breast, panting hard, but needing more.

It was a tight fit on the bunk, but they managed to maneuver into position, his cock instantly thrusting to bury himself into her heat. He stilled, forcing himself to give her a moment to adjust. He could tell by the arch of her body that she needed it. And then she rolled her hips and he didn't hold back. He thrust into her with abandon, skin smacking together, the sound of fucking filling the air, tiny gasps and his own low groans peppered though. He wasn't going to last.

He hitched Carol's leg up over his hip, she clutched at the sheet below her with one hand and the nails of her other one found his arm, there would be marks later. The pain was heady, and she did something around him, her muscles gripping him unexpectedly as she hit a second peak. That was it, he came with a grunt, his thrusts losing rhythm, stuttering as she milked him dry. He thrust a few more times, weaker, his breath coming in gasps before he had to stop. He moved to the side, careful not to crush her, and they mutually collapsed side by side.  
For several long minutes the only sound they made was the panting as they each caught their breath. Finally Daryl broke the silence, his voice just above a whisper, "Probably didn't do much for your back."

Carol let out a laugh that was louder than he'd expected, and it rang through the cell. "Mmm, maybe not, but it did wonder's for other things. Besides, still got a full bottle of that stuff. I'll let you make it up to me."

He wasn't about to argue that with her. He turned and snaked an arm around her, pulling her back to him, flush against one another. Despite the heat and their sweat slicked skin it felt good, right. He didn't know where it was going, but whatever this was he was glad they'd found it. Tomorrow wasn't a certainty for any of them, but he was pretty sure this was just a glimpse of what was to come.

END


End file.
